The Little Ghost
by Mad Vampire Poet
Summary: The Emerson family and the Frog brothers get more than they bargained for when they leave the Murder Capital of The World for a vacation in Seattle.
1. Chapter 1

The Little Ghost

Chapter One

**Disclaimer:**** I don't The Ring, or The Lost Boys. I thought that was obvious, but there you go.**

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><p>It was midday in Santa Carla, and Edgar and Alan were sweating like pigs inside their comic book store, due to the broken air conditioning. They wished somebody would come and free them from their boredom. But alas; everyone had gone to the beach. And they had no money to go anywhere. And that was why their summer was completely horrible every year. But at least they were free from the kids picking on them. And it was easier to hunt vampires. And okay, they didn't always get an opportunity to, but never mind. And recently, they'd taken out a whole pack of vampires. With a little help, of course.<p>

Edgar turned his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. Was it a customer? No. It was only Sam. Not that he didn't like Sam, but… it would be really great to have a customer sometime. And air con.

"You guys _are_ still here! Michael said you might have gone on vacation, but I said he was wrong," Sam said, coming over to them.

"Wrong as hell. We've gotta stay here all summer. Damn parents are poor, we can't go on vacation," Edgar said.

"That's true," Alan agreed.

"Oh. We're going to Seattle in a couple of days. You could come… It's this place in the mountains… Shelter Mountain Inn, I think. It's been open for about ten years," Sam said.

"Seattle? Cold. We'll come." Edgar said. Then turning to Alan, "We'll come, right?"

"Right," Alan said. "They don't need air con in Washington,"

"Great!" Sam said, grinning. "There aren't going to be any vampires there, right?"

"Can't say for sure. I've never been to Seattle," Edgar said, his voice and face as deadpan as usual. "Two day's right?"

"Yeah, we're going in two days. Meet us at our house. I'll tell Mom, Grandpa and Michael you're coming. Actually I'll tell Mom, and she'll tell the others,"

"Are you sure she'll let us come?" Alan asked.

"She's let Star come, she should let you guys come." Sam said. The Frog brothers remembered Star. She'd been half vampire, as had Michael and Laddie, until they'd killed Max. Well, Michael had killed him, but they'd come up with the idea. Well, Sam had, but he got it from their comic!

…

That night, it was cooler. Thank god. Alan had been out earlier in search of vampires. Unfortunately, he'd gone just before sunset without weapons, so they had to go back now. They were gathering some sharp, pointy pieces of wood to take with them, along with holy water pistols and various other vampire killing paraphernalia. It wasn't the safest job, but somebody had to do it.

…

Sam was lying awake in his room. He couldn't sleep. He kicked the quilt away from him. It was far too hot here. But in two days he would be gone, to a place much colder. And with Edgar and Alan, who, due to school not having started yet, were pretty much his only friends here in Santa Carla. A smiled crept upon his face at the thought. He could hardly wait. He hated Santa Carla. Michael did too, although he liked it a bit because of Star. He wouldn't have met if they were still in Phoenix, though he also wouldn't have almost become a vampire himself if they had stayed. Sam turned the lamp on, and jumped when he saw another one of those poor animals Grandpa stuffed. He sighed, got out of bed and put into the closet. His gaze lingered there a moment. How annoying that he seemed unable to escape a childhood fear. He could never leave the closet door open, despite claiming that he did _not _believe in the closet monster. There was no closet monster. He sat back down on the bed. He wasn't going to lie down and try to sleep; there was no point. He wondered what it was going to be like. Waking up in a different bed so soon after moving so that he'd barely got used to the one he had. It didn't help that he'd read somewhere that there was a well under one of the cabins. When he thought of wells, he thought of people disposing of corpses in them. And that of course, freaked him out, even if he did live in the Murder Capital of the World. Hopefully the murders would start clearing up now, but by what Edgar and Alan said, Max and his gang were far from the only vampires in this city. He wondered if they'd be in Seattle. He wondered if they had been in Phoenix. He doubted it, but he could never really know. He supposed there must be vampires everywhere, but he knew there were more here in Santa Carla. They were the leading cause of the many dissapearances in the area. And, yes, leading cause. There were still plenty of mundane murders, kidnappings and just angsty teenagers running away. There were in every big city really.

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><p>So, how was that? Boring? First chapter always is, it will get better. See, PunkVampy, I wrote it! Now you have to review it! You promised earlier, remember?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

"Is this it? It looks like a dump," Edgar said, as he saw the cabin he, Alan and Sam were going to stay in. Cabin 12. The one with the well underneath. Sam shivered, in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. He was definitely going to have nightmares tonight.

"Yeah. This is it." Sam said in reply to Edgar's question. "Shelter Mountain Inn,"

When they walked inside, his feelings of uneasiness intensified. There was just something about the place. Something that wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. "Hey, guys, look! There's a T.V!" Sam sat himself down on the sofa, and turned the T.V on with the remote. It showed nothing but static. "Oh, man! No reception!"

"Do you really need a T.V everywhere you go?" Edgar asked, sitting next to him.

"I kinda do." Sam said. "There's a well under this cabin, you know. A god damn well!"

"What about it?" Alan asked.

"When I think of wells, I think of corpses being thrown down them. So when I think there's a well here, I think there's a damn corpse under us!" Sam answered. Edgar and Alan remained unfazed. He supposed they must get that from fighting vampires for spending money. However, he succeeded in creeping himself out even more. He kept fidgeting nervously, as though something might happen any minute. As though a crazy man was going to burst in through the door wielding a chainsaw and tear them all to pieces. _Stop being a wimp, _he told himself. _You've dealt with vampires, why should a well under a rental cabin scare you? _It hardly helped though. He still felt nervous. He turned the T.V off.

"I'm bored," He complained.

"We just got here," Edgar said, disbelieving, though he really didn't sound anything but annoyed.

"I know… There's nothing to do…" Sam said.

"How about we go see if they are any vampires around?" Edgar asked. Sam groaned loudly.

"Seriously? Do you guys think about _anything _but vampires?" Neither of them gave answer to his question. And he knew he wasn't going to get one.

"You don't have to come with us," Alan said.

Sam shook his head. "I'm coming. Take a look around, you know? Besides, this place gives me the shivers." He walked over to the table where he'd dumped his bag, and tore a page out of a notebook, hastily scribbling a note. "How long should we be gone?"

"Just about an hour, more or less. Depends, really." Edgar said. Sam finished off the note and waited outside for the brothers to get ready. He stared up at the sky. It was so different here to Santa Carla. It was colder (obviously) and the scenery… it was completely different. Sam couldn't imagine a place more different if he tried. He supposed that just showed his lack of imagination.

"We're ready," Edgar and Alan said in unison as they walked out onto the steps, standing beside Sam.

"Here," Edgar said, passing Sam a stake and a holy water pistol. "You might need them,"

"Thanks," Sam said. Then he realised something. "Hey, do you guys have, like, un unlimited supply of holy water or something? I mean, sharp bits of wood, easy enough to get a hold of… But holy water! You guys didn't bring any with you!"

"Nah, we learnt how to bless water," Edgar said. "So now we can make our own."

"Cool. How'd you learn that?"

"The priest taught us. He was sick of us coming into the church to steal water," Alan explained.

"Uh huh," Sam said, trying to sound as if he were interested. He looked at the ground for just a moment, looking right back up again. His trainers were getting completely covered in mud. So were Edgar and Alan's boots. Maybe this wasn't the best place to come for a holiday weather-wise… but it certainly beat being stuck in the oven that was Santa Carla in August. Especially with no air con. How could the Frog brothers survive without burning into… whatever people burnt into. He'd never know.

"So are we going then?" Edgar asked impatiently.

"We're going," Sam said. He felt quite nervous as he walked along with the brothers. Were they going to find anything? He almost hoped they wouldn't. He wasn't too fond of hunting vampires. The only reason he agreed to it now was because it was the only thing around here that he could do.

They saw Michael and Star nearby, kissing. Did they ever do anything else?

"Where are you guys going?" Michael questioned, breaking away from Star.

"We're going to slay vampires," Edgar said.

"Be careful," Michael said. "In fact, no. I'm coming with you."

"Aw, man! Damn over protective brother!" Sam said, as Michael walked over to them.

"I'm not overprotective, I'm just worried. Seriously, Sammy, there's hardly a 'you could get hurt' about this. It's pretty much definite." He said.

"Then we need Nanook," Sam said.

"Huh?" Michael said, making no secret of his confusion in Sam wanting to take their dog vampire-killing.

"Nanook helped last time. He could be useful. He attack vampires! He bit you when you were half, remember!" Sam reminded him.

"How could I forget?" Michael said, suddenly becoming lost in thought as they continued walking. The four of them said nothing for quite a long time and they walked in complete silence but for the falling of their feet. It was unnerving, this stillness. It made it seem like something was going to happen. _Stop being stupid, nothing is going to happen, _Sam told himself. Don't worry, he didn't believe himself either.

…

They'd found something. An old, abandoned factory, lying alone, far away from even its closest neighbours. It seemed as though it were a likely enough spot for a bunch of vampires to hang around. Edgar pushed open the door quickly, noisily. Alan pressed his finger to his lips, a wordless gesture to be quieter. The four of them began to walk down the steps slowly, their steps as soft as was possible. The air of the factory was stale and musty, making it seem like they couldn't breathe. The darkness that pressed against them on all sides certainly did not help dissolve that illusion. Sam smelt something familiar, though he wasn't sure what it was. But a barking Nanook certainly was.

"Shut up, Nanook!" Sam said pleadingly.

"He doesn't need to. We can see them now. I'll go get the first one. Have your weapon at the ready," Edgar said, walking over to the vampires.

"You mean my water pistol," Sam said, holding said water pistol toward the vampires. Edgar staked the vampire. It woke up, screaming, blood pouring from its chest. Just like how Marko had died. Sam pulled the trigger on his water pistol immediately, squirting the vampire. He cringed as its skin began to burn off its bones. Gross.

…

Hours later, the Frog brothers and the Emerson brothers arrived back at Shelter Mountain Inn.

"Um, guys…" Sam said, stopping in his tracks. "How are we going to explain all the blood?"

"We should wash it off," Michael said. "There's a pond over there. We could get in, wash off, and if anyone asks us why we're soaking wet we'll just say we fell in and started fighting," Everyone agreed that was a good idea, and followed Michael to the pond. Michael came up behind Sam and pushed him in.

"Hey-" He said, or tried to say, for at that moment, he felt himself dragged underwater by an unseen force. He struggled, but it achieved nothing. He couldn't breathe. The wind had been knocked out of him as soon as… whatever that thing was had grabbed him. He flailed about, trying to break free. He soon lost his energy. His body went limp, like the dead. But he wasn't dead yet. But what was the difference right now? He couldn't breathe. He was going to die. And then he felt four strong arms grab him, two around his waist, two pulling him by the shoulders. Michael and Edgar. They were helping him. There were just moments left of that murky blackness under the water, and then he felt his head break the surface. He could breathe. He gasped for air, filling his starved lungs.

"Thanks," He spluttered.

"What happened just then Sammy? You can swim, I know you can swim! Tell me what happened," Sam looked up to the concerned eyes of his brother, and the emotionless eyes of the Frogs.

"I don't know…" He admitted. "It felt like something pulled me… But there's nothing there. Nothing there at all,"


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

"What are you boys doing?" Lucy Emerson demanded. The boys froze in their tracks. "You've been gone all day! And you're soaking wet!"

"We were exploring. We fell in the lake." Michael said. He gestured to the others to keep walking. They quickly followed his command. Lucy walked after them, banging on the door once they were inside. They ignored her. The boys quickly changed out of their drenched clothes. Sam took a shower – he had been rather shaken by the experience, and the warm water helped sooth him. Strange, when he had just been submerged under it. They met back in the living room. Despite trying his best to hide it, Sam did appear to be rather scared by the experience.

"I'm cold," He complained.

"You just had a hot shower, how can you be cold?" Edgar asked.

"I'm cold. Dunno why. I think maybe I should go to bed. I'm tired anyway," Sam said, getting up to leave the room.

"So, he was attacked by water?" Michael asked. For some reason, that just didn't sound right.

"That's how he described it," Edgar said.

"Probably a psychic or a witch," Alan said.

"Or some sort of water demon thing…"

"Or a ghost…"

"Or all three…"

Michael wasn't listening to Edgar or Alan speaking. He was worried about his brother. Sam rarely got sick… What could have happened to him?

…

Sam lay shivering on his bed, clutching the scratchy, thin blanket tightly. It may be summer here, but it was still a lot colder than Santa Carla and he was freezing. He knew the cabin wasn't all that old, but he kept hearing all these creaks and groans, and each time they were coming closer and closer…

"Come on Sam, you're okay," He told himself. The fact that he had to say that to reassure himself in the first place was a pretty good warning. "As long as nothing bad happens…" Oh, crap. Why the hell did he say that? He couldn't believe he'd really said it. That was the worst possible thing to say. Now something bad really _was_ going to happen. The light flickered overhead. Or maybe something bad was already happening… The lights went out completely and the creaking noise was closer than ever… It was right below him… He whimpered. What was happening?

…

A scream suddenly took hold of the attention of Michael and the Frogs.

"Sammy!" Michael yelled, running into Sam's room. He was sitting on the floor, shivering like crazy, his lips blue. He looked even worse than he had earlier.

"Sammy? Are you okay?" Michael asked, teribly concerned for his brother, and it showed.

"I feel cold…" He said. But it wasn't cold at all.

"Do you think maybe we should get him to the hospital?" Michael asked Edgar. Edgar shrugged.

"Do whatever. Just make sure your mom doesn't find out. She'd go nuts,"

…

Michael had decided to take Sam to the hospital. He had been there for hours, showing no sign of getting better. They had eventually resorted to telling Lucy Emerson. And she did go nuts. She would do nothing but worry, with a little bit of crying mixed in. It was like she thought Sam was going to die. Of course, there _was _a chance that he might. The doctors had said he was hypothermic. Sam had been unconcsious since they had left and he still hadn't woken up. His body temperature had dropped so low it was almost a miricle that he was alive, almost at room temperature. But still he lived. His breathing was normal. His eyes were moving beneath his closed eyelids. Michael wondered what he was dreaming about, whether it was a good dream or a nightmare. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Michael was going to stay with his brother if it meant seeing him die.

…

Edgar and Alan were in the cabin, tearing it apart in their search. The knew that Sam's sudden illness had nothing to do with being submerged. It was summer after all, the water was hardly cold. Cold enough to make him want a hot drink and a shower, maybe. But not cold enough to give him hypothermia. Sam hadn't become sick until he'd got back to the cabin, so the cause of the illness must be there. And both the Frog brothers knew very well that the cause of his illness was more… supernatural.

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><p>Incredibly short chapter, I deeply apoligise. Just wanted to finish it as soon as possible. See, Alice. I can update! Next chapter will be better... When (or if...) I eventually write it... It's annoying because I have to copy it from my old notebook... And since no one actually cares about my life (or what passes for one) I will stop rambling.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Michael rubbed his eyes groggily. It wasn't comfortable to sleep on a chair. He frowned. There was something that was just… not right about the room. And then, as he woke up more, he noticed it.

Sam was gone. And so was the doctor.

Michael stood up and looked around the room, looking for any sign of either of them. He didn't know what possesed him to do so, but he opened the door of the closet. There was the doctor. But the doctor wasn't standing in the closet looking for something. The doctor was propped against the wall, her pallor giving a good clue as to why she couldn't stand herself. She was dead.

The closet door creaked as Michael slowly closed it. He sank onto the bed. Where was Sam? Was he alright? Somehow, he didn't think so…

…

Edgar and Alan were sitting outside the house, on the look out. What for? They had no idea, but possibly it was something. Or they were just trying to seem cool.

But they were very surprised to see Sam walking towards them, a blank expression on his face.

"Feeling better now, huh?" Edgar asked. Sam didn't say anything. He walked – a slow, mindless, undead walk – right past them, towards the cabin. Edgar grabbed him.

"Sam?"

Sam turned slowly and Edgar drew back in fright. His eyes… there was something wrong with his eyes. They were all white, with no pupil or iris. That wasn't natural. Edgar never paid attention in school – he didn't always go – but he knew that all white eyes were not natural. And then he wasn't seeing Sam's face, but the face of a girl – he thought it was a girl – glaring at him, soaking wet hair barely pushed away from her rotted, dead face. But then the vision was gone and he was lying on the floor, unable to move.

"Hey! What did you do to my brother, you undead creep!" Alan yelled. "Wait, you're not a vampire…"

Sam looked at Alan with those eyes and Edgar saw his little brother go still, immobilized by his fear. Sam – okay, Edgar was pretty sure it wasn't Sam by now – lifted Alan easily by his throat. His brother squirmed in the powerful grasp, but whatever was inabiting Sam's body was too strong. He was thrown aside. Edgar wanted desperately to be able to run to his brother, but he couldn't move a muscle and couldn't speak. Not Sam walked into the cabin, closing the door behind him.

…

Michael raced out of the hospital, determined to find his brother. Nobody there knew where he was, although one of the nurses had claimed to have seen him walking out of the door, heading in the direction of the cabin. So that was where Michael was going right now.

The sight he saw when he got there was not what he expected.

Not that he was really sure what he expected but, well, this wasn't it at all.

Edgar and Alan were lying on the ground, a few cuts and scrapes but other than that no injuries. Michael knelt down, afriad he would find that they were dead…

He breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that they weren't after checking their pulses. In fact, they didn't even seem to be unconcious. But what was certainly worthy of note was the look of fear on each of their faces. They looked like they'd seen a ghost. Michael grimaced when he thought that maybe they had. He got up, entering the cabin as quietly as he could. He saw Sam right away. He was kind of impossible to miss, what with all the bright clothing. But what he was doing was, to say the least, pretty strange.

He was yanking up the floorboards.

Michael didn't know why his brother was doing that and he didn't know if he should stop him, but it didn't matter. Sam was standing up, turning his head, slowly. Michael felt an inexplicable sense of dread come over him, but tried to ignore it as his brother looked at him. But he couldn't ignore that sinking feeling, that horrible feeling in his gut…

"Get away from here," Sam said.

"What? But Sammy…"

"I said get away!" Sam glared at him, and Michael was sure he was about to do something. Something bad. But, maybe a little too conveniently, Edgar and Alan ran in.

"Get away from him," Alan grunted.

"Or we'll stake you," Edgar said.

"You can't stake my brother!" Michael shouted.

"He's not your brother right now," Edgar said.

"Or a vampire," Alan pointed out.

"Or in the damn room!" Michael shouted. Edgar and Alan looked at the spot where Sam had been standing just a minute ago. Michael was right. Sam Emerson was not there.

…

Later, Michael was pacing the room, seeming – and being – incredibly stressed. Edgar and Alan were sitting on the sofa, not being exactly annoying, but certainly not doing anything to improve his mood.

"What the hell could have happened?" He wondered aloud. Edgar and Alan didn't say anything. Of _course _they didn't say anything, they never said anything! And they had nothing to say… Because of course, not one of them knew what was up with Sam. Or was it Sam? Okay, they were all pretty sure they knew the answer to that one. No, no it wasn't.

"I think what we're looking at here is a pretty standard case of demonic posseion of some sort. We just don't know what sort…" Edgar said. Alan nodded.

"_Thanks_, guys. That's _real _helpful," Michael said, his voice oozing sarcasm.

"Wanna go find some vampires?" Edgar asked.

Michael shook his head. "I'm going to bed," He said. "I'm tired,"

"Suit yourself," Edgar replied.

…

Michael wasn't really going to sleep. He was going to find Sam. He didn't want to tell Edgar or Alan, because they might try to go after him. So he pretended to be going to sleep, but he climbed out of the window. He didn't really know where Sam could be, but he knew his younger brother hadn't just dissapeared into thin air. He had to be _somewhere!_

"Michael!" Michael turned at the sound of Star's voice. "What's going on?"

"It's Sam. He fell in the lake, and he- he got sick…" Michael proceeded to tell Star the whole story of what had happened to Sam.

"So… now he's gone missing?" Star asked.

"That's right," Michael said.

"I'll help you look for him!" Star said.

"No, you won't," Michael said. But Star was having none of it. She followed him. Michael really didn't want her to go, for her own good, but he knew that he could do nothing to persuade her otherwise.

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><p>Yes, I did lie. I said I wouldn't update until the Closet Monster was updated, but what the hell. I don't <em>think <em>PunkVampy is the only one reading this.


	5. Chapter 5

_**The Little Ghost**_

_Chapter Five_

Neither Edgar nor Alan noticed that Michael was gone for several hours. They didn't really do much during that time. Read comics mostly. They were still trying to figure out what had happened to Sam of course, but they hadn't got very far with it. Sam was possessed. That was all they knew. It was at dinner that they noticed.

They were all at the table in Cabin 11. Lucy Emerson had set the table and was dishing up dinner, but only the Frog brothers were there.

"Where are those two?" Lucy moaned, speaking of Star and Michael. No one had told her that Sam was no longer in the hospital.

Edgar and Alan looked at each other.

"I don't know. I'll go look for them," Edgar said, getting out of his chair.

"I'll go with him," Alan said, following his older brother.

"Your dinner will go cold!" Lucy called. But neither of them could be bothered to listen.

…

Michael and Star were deep in the forest, searching all over for Sam. But they couldn't find him.

Michael stopped walking abruptly, causing Star to almost trip over him.

"Let's think. Where would you go if you were a ghost or demon or whatever possessing a teenage boy?" Michael asked.

Star gave him a strange look, as if unsure of whether or not he was asking a serious question. "I don't know…" she said.

"Exactly! You don't know and neither do I! None of us do! How will we be able to find Sam like this?"

Star couldn't answer.

Michael sat down on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head in his hands. "It's my fault… I should never have let this happen to him…"

"Hey!"

They both turned around to see the Frog brothers walking up to them.

"Thought you could use some help," Edgar said.

They went on looking for Sam, but still didn't get very far. Then, Michael thought of something.

"Guys… what are we going to do when we find Sam?"

"Exorcism could work," Edgar replied.

"If this is a vengeful spirit we're dealing with, exorcism might not work. The ghost will just go to another body," Alan countered.

"If we don't even know what we're going to do, what are we doing here?" Star demanded.

"She's right. Let's go back, Michael. We can't find him and if we do, all we're going to do is to get killed," Edgar said. Reluctantly, Michael turned back.

…

When they got to Cabin 11, Lucy was furious.

"Where have you all been!" She demanded. "You saw what happened to Sam. You could have got killed. Or worse!"

"We're sorry," Michael said. Lucy pursed her lips, but didn't say a thing as she walked out of the room.

The four of them proceeded to make themselves feel sick with their cold dinner.

…

The following day, the Frog's woke Michael up at six am. He was, of course, very grumpy.

"What the hell was that for?"

"We're going to the library," Edgar said. Michael looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"The library? Really? That doesn't seem like the sort of place you two would normally go,"

"Newspapers," Edgar said. That was all Michael needed to know. He kicked the Frog brothers out of his room and got dressed, hastily scrawled a note so Lucy or Star would worry, grabbed some change for breakfast and maybe lunch and left.

…

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Michael asked from his comfy chair as he watched Edgar and Alan pouring through the old newspapers.

"Anything," Alan said. "Suspicious deaths…" He noticed that Edgar had stopped looking. "What's up?"

"I just thought of something," he said.

"What did you think of?"

"What we're looking for…" Edgar said. "You remember when we got here and Sam said the well made him think of people being buried inside it? And then we saw that dead girl?"

"I remember," Alan said.

"Well, what if that girl had been killed and then thrown down the well? It's worth a try, right?" Edgar said. Alan nodded.

"Got it. Little girl thrown down a well,"

They went on looking through the papers. They found five little girls who'd died in mysterious circumstances, but not one of them had to do with any wells.

Edgar sighed. "It's no use," he said. They hadn't found anything yet, even though they'd been searching for what seemed like hours. Alan looked at him, but the expression on his face was unreadable. Edgar couldn't tell if his brother wanted him to go on or to give up.

"But what if the body was never found?" Michael asked. "They built over the well and I doubt that anyone checked down there for dead bodies before they started building,"

The Frog turned slowly to look at him. It was, to be honest, quite unnerving.

"That's it!" Edgar said. "We were looking for bodies found in the well, but if the body was missing…"

"That would partly explain why the ghost wants revenge," Alan said.

"Read out the cases you've found," Michael said.

Edgar looked down at the piece of paper he and Alan had been writing things down on.

"1986, a little girl named Abby Murry was killed in a car crash. 1984, an unidentified girl drowned near a beach. 1982, a girl named Winifred King was killed by her abusive parents. 1980, another unidentified girl died, this one run over by a car. 1978, a little girl was pronounced missing and then dead. Her name was Samara Morgan," He said. "That Samara sounds like our ghost,"

"Let's go get some breakfast," Michael said. "When we're back we can look for more,"

They all agreed that this was a good idea, as they were all getting hungry. At least now they felt like they were actually getting somewhere.

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><p>Would you look at that? I finally updated! Yay for me!<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**_The Little Ghost_**

_Chapter Six_

* * *

><p>Samara Morgan, it turned out, had died in pretty mysterious circumstances. Which was exactly what they were looking for. They read through countless papers trying to find her name. What they found seemed quite promising, intriging even. She had always been thought of as strange. People had kept their distance from her. Things had a tendancy to go wrong when she was around. A jockey had been injured when she was there. He'd fallen from his horse and broken his back. Another time, later, the horses owned by her parents began to die by running into the water. Samara had been recently released from Eola County Psychiatric hospital at that time.<p>

"This is definitely our ghost," Edgar said. "Alone all her life,"

"And completely mental, I'm guessing," Michael said.

"Not neccesarily," Alan countered. "Many people have been sent to insane asylums even though they weren't actually insane,"

"We'll just have to know some more about her," Edgar said.

…

The well was a dark place and staying in a dark place for any amount of time was enough to drive most people very mad. Samara was hardly an exception. She was restless, impatient for her revenge. She paced the room in the boys body, catching sight of her reflection in a mirror that lay smashed against one wall. It wasn't her. Of course she knew it wasn't, but that didn't make her less surprised to see the boy gazing at her, looking so… empty. Was that what she looked like? She'd felt the lust for revenge every second of every day the whole time she had been in the well, but she had never seen her reflection. She went under the water so she didn't have to look at it. It shocked her to see herself here, even if she wasn't really herself. She turned away.

…

"What do we do now?" Michael asked. "And please don't say more investigating,"

"I'm afraid so," Alan said. Michael groaned.

"We're done with the papers," Edgar said, hoping that would improve Michael's mood. It did, if only slightly. "We're going to ask some people about her. At least a couple of people must have seen her at some point,"

"Edgar… she was from Moesko Island, not here," Michael pointed out.

"True… but she died here. Someone must have seen once. I don't know, maybe she went out shopping or something with her family. It's worth a shot. You do want your brother back, right?" Edgar said.

"Of course I want Sammy back…" Michael said. How could he not? Although, he supposed he wasn't really being interested enough in this investigation. He could imagine Edgar being far more desperate if Alan was taken from him… only Edgar wouldn't show it, because he never did. Those two always looked emotionless. But not to the extent that the girl in Sam's body looked. Those eyes… those white eyes… Michael had never seen anything like it. This seemed almost worse than vampires. A ghost. At least vampires were corporeal, he thought. At least you could kill them. What could you do with a ghost? Especially if they were possesing your younger brother. There was nothing he could do. He felt so powerless.

…

It took the boys a reasonably long time to find anyone who knew a thing about Samara. The person who they eventually found was a former resident of Moesko Island who had only moved to the mainland three years ago, in 1984.

They were sitting in his living room and Michael was looking around the room. His gaze was fixed on a deer's head above the fireplace. Looked like this guy knew Grandpa Emerson.

"So, Samara Morgan, huh? Haven't heard anyone talking about her in quite a while," The man said. He was about sixty, with all grey hair and crow's feet at the edges of his eyes.

"We were wondering if you knew what happened to her," Michael said.

"What happened to her? What, so how she died, that sort of thing? I'm sorry, kids, but you're wasting your time. No one knows what happened to that kid. No one even knows for sure if she's dead…"

"But what do you know about her?" Edgar asked.

"Well, we all knew she was nuts, right from the beginning. Not like she had to wear a straitjacket and sit in a padded cell at all times, but there was something pretty off about her, you know? I remember back when she was a baby, when her parents firast brought her back to Moesko Island . Everyone was suspicious of her. Not one person ever trusted her. Even as a newborn, she was a strange one. She never cried, never slept… It wasn't right, it wasn't natural. Those two were never supposed to have a child. She was seriously messed up. Wherever she went, something always went wrong. I suppose, in a way, some of us felt bad for her. But we hated her more. She rarely said anything. When she did, it was mostly to her mother. Anna Morgan was the only one she trusted in the whole wide world. When she was seven, the girl and her mother were both commited to Eola Psychiatric. They both stayed there for months. When the girl came back, all of those horses killed themselves. But the worst part was the things she'd show you. Horrible things, horrible…"

"Alright. Good. We'll be leaving now," Michael said. He looked at the Frogs and they stood up.

The three of them left without a word.

…

Star sat on the bed in Cabin 10, doing nothing more productive than thinking. It was so terrible. Only a couple of weeks ago, they had defested the vampires, only to be caught up in _this._ Posession, ghosts… It all seemed so unreal. Michael would hardly tell her anything, saying that he wanted to protect her. But not telling her just made her feel more scared. She wished he'd be more careful. Even if he wasn't doing any more than researching that ghost, he could get hurt. Ghosts could be angry.

…

When Michael and the Frogs were walking home, they found a rather unpleasant surprise awaiting them. Samara.

She was standing outside of Cabin 12, that same empty expression still painted on her borrowed face.

"What do you want?" Michael demanded.

"I've come home. I've come back to my mommy and my big brother Michael," She said.

"You're not Sam," Michael growled. "What do you want?"

The emptiness seeped out of her face, to be replaced with a rage that looked contagious.

"I want to go home!" She said.

"You're dead. Go away!" Michael shouted. And go away she did. In no more than an instant. At first Michael felt releif, but then there was another feeling, a bad feeling. Something was knawing at his brain, telling him he shouldn't have said that.

"That's not good, is it?" He asked the Frog brothers without looking at them.

"It's good that she left," Alan said.

"But it's not so good that she's really pissed off at you," Edgar said.

Michael wasn't about to admit to anyone, but now he was scared.

* * *

><p>Any more interesting than last chapter? I hope so. This isn't go all that well, but at least I'm writing it now. Any ideas for what'll happen next? I might not use 'em, but I don't really know much about what's going to happen. I will say though that at some point, hopefully anyway, Laddy will be in it.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

**_The Little Ghost_**

_Chapter Seven_

Michael couldn't sleep that night. He kept thinking about the girl, the ghost girl. He wanted her gone. He wanted his brother back. He felt sick thinking about what she had said before she had left earlier. She wanted to take his place. It was sad really. It seemed like all she wanted was a chance to be alive and Michael would be happy to give it her… if it only didn't come with the cost of his own little brother. He opened his bag and looked at a picture he'd taken with him. It was the whole family, Lucy and the brothers, taken just before they'd come to Santa Carla. Sam had said he was sentimental for taking it with him, but Michael felt better with it. He felt like a kid again and as such, he felt like less of an idiot when tears started pouring from his eyes.

"Don't worry, Sammy. I'll get you back,"

…

Sam Emerson was sleeping. He supposed you could call it sleep, though perhaps that would be more than a little misleading. What was happening to him now was not peaceful and he wished more than anything that it would end. He could see her. She was stuck in his mind like glue. He saw everything she was doing. He saw every moment she lived of his life and he wanted to be sick with the thought of the fact that she coukld control everying that he – his body – did, but he himself couldn't do a thing. He couldn't affect the world in any way at all. He felt like he was a ghost himself, but even a ghot would have more influence, as proven by the girl herself. He'd rather be dead than trapped within his own body.

…

"So, guys… what the hell do we do now?"

Michael and the Frog brothers were sitting in Cabin Twelve. Edgar and Alan were eating their breakfasts, but Michael was too wrapped up in his thoughts to be tempted by the thought of some food. He was slouching at the table, looking tired and depressed. One could only guess at how much sleep he was missing out on. Probably all of it.

"I don't know for sure," Edgar admitted. "But waiting for the little ghost to make her next move doesn't sound like the best idea,"

"Definitely not," Alan agreed.

Michael leaned further back in his chair so that he looked in danger of falling off. He didn't know what to do, but he knew that he didn't want to sit around and wait, just like Edgar said. What could they possibly do? More important, what could Samara possibly do?

"Please tell me we've finished with all that damned research," Michael said.

"Of course," Edgar said. "We've gathered about as much as we can so far. But it still doesn't seem to be enough. We've barely scratched the surface of why she's like this. Why she hasn't moved on. We've got a bit of an idea, but probably not enough,"

"But we know, don't we?" Michael protested.

"We know that she was an outcast. We don't quite know what made her that way," Alan said. "Something was done to her. It must have been,"

Michael was really beginning to feel quite angry now. What could he do? Ghe felt so powerless, so uselsss… He felt like he'd let his brother down. But he couldn't. Not now and not ever. He would never let Sam down. He'd get his brother back if it was the last thing he did. And he had a feeling that it might be.

He was about to go back to his room when he saw something moving slowly out of the corner of his eye. He stood up from the table slower than he normally would, carefully pushing the chair away from where he sat. The chair scraped across the floor like nails on a chalkboard, but Michael paid no attention to it. He gazed at that place where he had seen movement, like a deer caught in the headlights, too afraid to move.

"Michael? What's up?" Edgar asked, getting out of his seat to come over to Michael.

The elder Emerson brother still stood staring, stunned. He lifted a finger and pointed over to the sofa.

"There. She was there. I saw her," He said.

"I didn't see anything," Edgar said, scanning the room. Nope. Not a thing to be seen.

"She was there, I swear it!" Michael screamed, starting to panic. If she was with them, what would she do? He knew it couldn't be good…

The sound of static came to them and Edgar turned to see that the crappy black and white T.V with no reception had turned itself on. And then, a picture began to take shape. Edgar began walking towards it. This wasn't right. That television never had a picture on it. And there was something even stranger, he realised as he drew nearer: the picture was in colour. On a television that was incapable of showing colour. That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all.

The screen showed a white room, with a small girl seated in the center of it. Her dark hair covered most of her face, but what Edgar could see of expression seemed sad, uncertain, even frightened, yet uncaring. But that image didn't last long. It quickly dissolved into static once more. After that, however, another image came onto the television screen. A circle of light against darkness. Then nothing but black as the T.V turned itself off. Edgar narrowed his eyes and looked black at Michael. He and Alan had been looking at something else while he had been entanced by the T.V.

There was indeed something happening. Water was leaking out of every crack and every crevice of the room. Edgar didn't know how he hadn't noticed.

"What the hell is going on?" Michael yelled.

"I don't know," Edgar replied. "But I think it would be a pretty good idea to run for our lives,"

Of course they all thought that was the sensible option, so they started to run as fast as they could while they were ankle deep in the steadily rising water. They ran out of the cabin, but somehow the water followed them like a tsunami.

Alan tripped over in the mad rush and fell flat on his face in the mud.

"Alan!" Edgar screamed, running over to help him. Alan stood up, still slipping and turned around, just for a second. But he only needed a second more delay. A huge wave rushed at them, knocking the Frog brothers off their feet and soaking Michael to the bone. Alan felt cold hands close around his throat and pull him back. He screamed, flaily wildly, but it didn't matter. He was gone.

"Holy shit," Edgar said quietly, stunned. After a few second, the shock drained away, only to be replaced with anger and a burning desire for payback. "You fucking bitch!" He yelled. "I'll get you for this!"

He didn't know how he'd get her back, but he would. Somehow.

* * *

><p>Oh look, I updated again. Good for me. I apoligize for the profanity in this chapter, I was angry at Samara. Why did she do that, why? Seriously, why? I'm the one who wrote this and I don't even know what's going on. I think that's a pretty bad thing. Oh well.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

**_The Little Ghost_**

_Chapter Eight_

Michael ran to catch up with Edgar as the elder Frog brother strode quickly as he could through the thick, squelchy mud.

"Edgar! Edgar, what exactly are you doing?" Michael called.

"I'm going to get Alan! Even if it's the last thing I do!"

"I know how you feel," Michael said. "I really do. And believe me, I want Sammy back as much as you want Alan. He's my little brother, like Alan is yours. Samara took them both. And she's using Sammy like a doll…"

Edgar took a deep breath through his teeth, hearing it whistle as he inhaled. It seemed like he was going to start yelling again, but instead he let the air out in a sigh. "I don't know what to do…"

"Whatever we can…" Michael said. "We'll do whatever we can,"

…

Alan was pulled back inside the cabin, being dragged over the now slimey floor. He screamed, but even he couldn't hear his own screams above the defeaning roar of the water. Michael and Edgar couldn't come back for him… and even if they could, they'd think he was a goner. Alan thought Edgar would be wanting revenge right about now. Although, he might need to be avenged soon. Alan didn't know what was going to happen to him and he had no way to guess. But he could tell what was happening as he was pulled towards the well and screamed even before he began the long fall.

…

"We left all our weapons inside," Edgar said. "We can't do a thing,"

"Weapons? What are you talking about? He's my brother, we can't kill him!"

"I never said I'd actually kill. But just making the girl think he was going to die might be enough,"

Michael shook his head. "You're insane,"

"What else can we do? We're vampire killers, not ghost busters!" Edgar said.

It was true and Michael could tell. Edgar really did have no idea what to do and neither did Michael. Michael started to try and think of something, but his thoughts were interrupted by a loud bark.

"Nanook!" He got to his feet, surprised. The dog came bounding towards them, barking.

"I didn't even realise he was gone," Edgar said.

Michael hadn't either. "He looks scared…"

Suddenly, Nanook took off running into the woods. Michael immediately started following him. Edgar followed. Neither knew what they would find, but _something _must have made Nanook react the way he did. They struggled through the tangled undergrowth, getting quite a few tiny cuts, but neither of them cared. They had to save their brother, if they still could.

Eventually, Nanook stopped in a clearing in the middle of the forest. Michael and Edgar stopped just behind him. A minute ago, they had desperately wanted to know what lay in wait for them. Well, know they knew. And Michael wasn't sure whether to be pleased or angry.

"Sam!" He ran to his brother, hoping that he was alright. Sam didn't appear to be bleeding, but his breathing came rapid and rasping. He was soaked to the bone and looked just like he had when he first became possesed. But at least he was alive. "Sammy, you're alright!" Michael said. Sam opened his mouth, but all that came out was a choking gurgle. Michael looked at Edgar. "We need to get him somewhere safe,"

Edgar nodded. They hurried back, Michael carrying Sam's unconscious form. They went to Star's cabin, their own being flooded. Edgar knocked on the door and Star let them all in without question, even Nanook.

Michael put Sam down on the sofa. He looked almost peaceful, but Michael could tell that his every breath was a struggle.

They all sat there, not saying a word, unless you counted Nanook's continued barking.

…

Alan was cold. The well was dark and enclosed. He spoke to himself, not because he was going crazy, but because he wanted to comfort of his own voice. He had stopped shaking ages ago. Now he was just there, floating in oblivion, the cold water freezing his skin. He could hear her. Could hear her laughing at him. The laugh was so out of place; a laugh like that belonged to a small child. The child she'd never got to was saying all of this aloud as he thought it. His voice didn't sound right. It was hoarse and whispery. He needed a drink, but the well water looked far from appealing. He looked at the walls that surrounded him. He could see fingernails that had broken off right at the bottom embedded into the cracks in between the bricks. She'd tried to get out and hadn't succeeded. But still, how could it hurt to try? Alan swam/walked – he wasn't entirely sure which one it should be considered, but he wasn't going to waste time wondering about that – over to the wall and lifted his right foot as well as he could onto the bricks, trying to get some grip on the slippery stone. He grabbed the stones above with his hands and then heaved himself up with all his might. He felt himself slipping, but he got up quite some way before he actually fell. Or a least, he'd got up two 'steps'. He sighed. This was going to take longer than he'd expected. He looked down at the rippling water, into the eyes of his own reflection and glared.

"You idiot," he said to it.

…

It wasn't until a very long time later that Sam finally spoke.

"She took him," He croaked, barely getting the words out with his shaking and hoarse voice. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he meant Alan.

"Yeah. Yeah, she took him. And we're gonna get him back," Edgar said, his voice determined and even. It surprised him how much he actually sounded like he knew what he was doing. He guessed it was a learned skill.

"Me… help. I'll help you," Sam said.

"As soon as you're better. For now, you can rest," Michael said.

A few minutes later, Star came in with hot chocolate. That was their last conversation for the day.

* * *

><p>Wow. I actually updated again. And I updated Remember, Remember the Fifth of November yesterday and posted Where Is the Blood... And I only posted the Basement a while ago... I <em>have <em>been writing a lot, haven't I? Shame I have writers block with my book and Spike and Dru...


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

Alan wasn't feeling any better. He was completely trapped. He had tried several unsuccesful times to escape from the well, but it was simply impossible. Especially since he seemed to be slowly weakeaning, like Samara was sapping his strength somehow. He didn't feel like he could live for much longer. _This was what she felt. _He didn't want to think that, because he didn't want to feel sorry for her. She was, after all, the bitch who had trapped him down here, no matter what she'd gone through. But the thought kept nugding at him, trying to make him feel something. It was true, though. This _was _what she'd felt when she was down here… Then Alan realised something. How did he know that? He hadn't read that, hadn't been told that… How did he know she had been in this well? But she had. There it was in his mind, even though he shouldn't know. Seven days. That was how long it had taken her to die.

_Get out of my head!_

She had been in pain the whole time, her fingernails had broken off, she'd been cold, so cold…

_Stop!_

She'd seen things. Horrible things that would make anyone's hair stand on end and their blood turn to ice…

_LEAVE!_

But none of it would leave. All of it, everything she saw, was going through Alan's head and wouldn't leave him. He screamed, screamed until he lost his voice, but nobody ever heard him. This was hell.

…

Sam couldn't sleep. He was tossing and turning, trying to close his eyes but he couldn't. He felt like her. Like Samara. Samara, who never slept. He got up out of bed, trying to be as quiet as a mouse. It was quite stange that after all recent events, he wasn't tired at all. His body was very tired, but not his mind. He walked out to the kitchen and nearly jumped out of his skin. Star was there, just staring at the sink. All thoughts of getting a drink of water evaporated from Sam's mind.

"Star… what are you doing here?"

Star whirled around, her wild hair falling over her face. Sam stumbled back, knocking over a chair and falling onto it. One of it's legs seemed strangely sharp as it dug into his back and he wondered if it was broken. When he looked at Star, he could see _her_. Samara.

"What are you doing here, Samara?" Sam hissed.

Samara fixed on him with her cold glare. Her eyes bore into him, seeming to see into his soul. It wasn't a pleasant feeling at all. Her head snapped up and Sam felt himself freeze. She didn't say a word, didn't make any threats or insults. She just walked slowly up to Sam and he felt himself become more and more scared. She started walking towards him, her cold expression never moving, never wavering… He stayed, forzen, for a few long minutes that he thought would never end… then he ran like hell. He turned and started running, desperate to escape from her, desperate not to simply become her prisoner again.

"Help! Edgar! Michael! Help!"

No one came for what seemed like longer than it actually was. They did come, eventually, but not until Sam had already outrun the possessed Star and locked himself in his room.

He sat with his back resting against the door, his arms crossed over his knees and his head resting on his right arm. His sleeve felt wet and when he looked, he saw that it was. He'd been crying. He shook his head. Why was he crying? Crying wouldn't fix anything.

"Sam? You okay?" He heard Michael call from just outside his door.

"Uh… yeah, I think so," He said. "I'm not hurt… Star's… She's acting pretty weird. When I looked at her face… it wasn't her face,"

Sam thought Michael was going to say something else, like asking what he might, but instead he heard only silence.

"Michael?" Sam started to feel something strange in his stomach, like there was poison being poured into it. It didn't feel like butterflies at all. Nanook came to sit beside him and Sam buried his hands into the dog's soft, warm fur. It was a comfort to have a companion when nothing made any sense, even if that companion wasn't the same species.

"Michael's okay," Edgar called back. "Just out cold,"

A shiver ran down Sam's spine. What was going on? He wanted to look, but he feared her. Samara terrified him and he didn't want to end up trapped again. What could they do?

…

Edgar stared Star/Samara right in the eyes. Neither of them blinked. It looked for all the world like a childish staring contest, but it was so much more. At least, Edgar hoped it was more than that.

"Why?" He asked. Samara looked up, her eyes widening a little with surprise. The question had caught her off guard. That was good; it gave Edgar an advantage.

"What do you mean?" _She_ asked in return, possibly trying to avoid the question, probably just having no idea what the hell something so vague was supposed to mean.

"Why are you doing this? Possessing Sam, stealing Alan and now possessing Star? It's not going to help you. I mean, vampires make sense. They need blood, so they drink it. But you? You're just a little kid who's afraid of dying," Edgar knew exactly that second that he'd said something wrong. Samara looked right at him with her soul-piercing gaze and then she lunged at him. The moment her hands touched him, Edgar felt an excrutiating burning in his skin. He thought he'd scream at a pain so undiluted, but only a hoarse whisper would come out of his mouth. He was panicking. What was going to happen? Would she kill him? But then her hands moved away and there was a moment of blessed releif. When he looked up, he saw that she wasn't there at all. At first he felt releif, but then a great annoyance took hold of him as he realised that now they'd lost Star too. First it was Sam, now it was Star… how could they possibly be safe?

* * *

><p>Ok, I <em>know <em>this is a very short chapter, but it was the best I could do. I really don't know what'll happen next, but I _will _finish this. Although I know not many people are reading, I know a few people are, so I have to finish this.


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